


i am leaving you

by planet134340



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop, f(x)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planet134340/pseuds/planet134340
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin is the rich boy who breaks people’s heart. Soojung is the best friend he shares kisses and blanket with. When the doctor says that Soojung is dying, all Jongin can hear is his father saying: she is not worth of us. <br/>	“I spend the last ten years defying my father to hang out with low life like you and now you are dying on me? I am not going to throw everything for something that decays so easy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Preview

* * *

  
    It always cross his mind to leave her behind—alone and lonely—before she does the same to him. Both Jongin and Soojung are fighting not to be the one who gets left behind.


	2. I

        Jongin never regretted anything. His life was smooth thread weaving in a consistent dynamic—what had passed should stay passed. Jongin should have had quiet plenty of time from the amount of time he was absence from society, but no matter what he used them for, it was certainly not for dwelling.  
    Tonight, sleeping on Soojung’s bed—though a small double size mattress was something that Jongin rarely admitted as one—Jongin watched the figure beside him, sleeping soundly a few inch away. Jongin was never fond of the idea of sharing a bed with anyone. The first time they slept together in the same room, he had the bed all for himself and had Soojung slept on the floor—he had the cover with him until in the middle of the night he was suddenly awake to find Soojung shivering and although he hated it, he threw the cover over her.  
    Tonight, they shared the same cover and Jongin’s arm was around Soojung’s waist because he knew she got cold easily. Jongin was a jerk—the despised kind—but he was not a fool. He remembered pattern so easily he noticed the same figure he had shared bed with for the years had changed—evolved—into something that he was both familiar and foreign with. Although Jongin was also sure that even without his 148 IQ he could still make out all the lines that made her figure now and then.   
    Jongin first met Soojung when he was eight; when his father had told him I would send her to the same school as you so she can do you a favour anytime and he answered as long as she doesn’t bother me.  
       That time Soojung was all bones and uncomfortable shivers. They shared the same height but she was so tiny compared to him. So easy to get rid of, he thought.  
As Jongin dwell—for the rarest of time—of their first encounter while looking at her face, he thought to himself I should have said no.   
Jongin never regretted anything; or so he thought. After ten years, letting Soojung stayed became Jongin first regret.  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
       Jongin hated hospital. His last time being in one was when he was ten. His mother had asked him to come with her. It was late at night and Jongin followed sleepily. Jongin remembered sitting on the passenger seat while his mom drove behind the wheel. The rest of his memory contained only lights—black, yellow and white—and sounds—the loud exhaust, piercing of wheel and road, his mother saying: I am sorry—then everything ended in one big crash.  
       Jongin woke up to find that he had broken ribs and leg, there was a fresh wound—a big gash on his chest lining from up right to bottom left—and that he was unable to breathe without the ventilator. Later, it was the hospital TV room who let him knew that his mother had died a week prior and that he should have died too because his mother had meant him to die with her in the suicide.  
       “Does it make this the fifth time?” Jongin said as Soojung got out from the infirmary. He was leaning on the wall behind the door, looking bored and annoyed. His shirt and rip jeans were a contrast view compared to the school’s setting.  
       Jongin graduated last year although he should have had graduated two years ago. Last year, he had actually planned on ditching another graduation exam. But his father had threatened to stop his money and he had no other option but to comply.  
       “It’s the third, stop adding it.” Jongin’s hand found Soojung’s wrist and the other worked on the side of her face.  
       “To faint thrice a week, you can’t say that’s not an achievement.” Jongin tucked a strand of Soojung’s hair on her ear and traced her cheek softly with his fingers. “You look cold.”  
       “Your hands are cold, Kai.”  
       “I ran through the snow.”  
       Soojung raised an eyebrow to Jongin. “My hero?”  
       Jongin turned it back by scoffing. He let go his hold on her and handed the warm chocolate can from his pocket. “I refuse to be,” he said as he walked away.  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
       “I can book an appointment for you with Doctor Lee if you want,” Jongin said while driving Soojung back. Jongin could drive and he could sit at the back as a passenger but he could not sit beside the driver seat. Jongin was the kind that believed to heal one didn’t have to treat the wound—just avoid touching it.   
       They said time healed all wound but Jongin was not fond in the idea of wasting his time to heal the past.  
       “It will be waste of money,” Soojung answered lazily. Jongin’s father had kicked her out of their house two years ago and with that also her allowance and other fees. When Soojung father died five years ago, Jongin’s family still let her stay at their mansion until they found out about the kisses and shared bed. Now, she lived by the rest of his father insurance and other random jobs.   
       “I’ll pay it,” Jongin countered easily.   
       “I don’t want to be your excuses to spend your father’s money.”  
       “I’ll ask him to do it for free then.” The car made a turn and entered a narrow street—a space between the rural and the city. Jongin’s black Audi blended well with the night but not with the rickety building surrounding it. The car slowed down now as it now sliding on a tiny street.  
       “I don’t like either when you threaten a doctor for me.” A moment later, Soojung added, “or for anyone.”  
       The car stopped in front of a three story building. The colour of the wall was dull and the mostly broken lamps had not do much on making the place looked less ghostly. Jongin set his eyes on Soojung. “Will you go if I go with you?”  
       Soojung levelled her eyes on him. “Will you do that for me?”  
       “No,” Jongin said as he broke the gaze. “I prefer to run through the snow every time someone tells me you lost consciousness.”  
       Soojung scoffed, “Does it make you my hero or simply a jerk?”  
       “Told you I refuse to be your hero. I’ll take the jerk anytime.” Jongin turned the car down and pulled the key off the engine. Soojung gave him a look from the side. Before he opened his door, he told Soojung, “I want to stay the night.”  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
       Jongin’s words were coming back at him. He had spent the last ten minutes running from his college trying to reach Soojung’s school. Eleven minutes ago the infirmary doctor had called him, saying, “It wasn’t a normal nosebleed. The blood was abundantly flowing from her nose until she lost her consciousness. She said not to bring her to the hospital no matter what happen. You really should bring her, Jongin.”  
       Jongin was not a sportsman. He ran from things but never to things. The only reason why he had been running was because the road was slippery and Jongin couldn’t drive under pressure. At time like this, Jongin had another principal. If something hit the forever fresh wound, never admitted that it hurt—not even in your own head.   
When Jongin reached the front of Soojung’s infirmary door—lungs burning, sweat rolling, shirt soaked, knee wobbling—he knocked on the door. After three knocks without anyone answering, he called for her, “Come out, Soo. It’s me.”  
       The door was not locked and he was free to entered—Jongin was the kind who was free to enter any kind of door in the world and after all, his father covered half of the school construction—but he hated infirmary as he hated hospital.  
       Too much wound being squeezed today.  
       “She is sleeping,” some voice said to him from behind. The new school’s doctor, Baekhyun—two year older than Jongin, his senior back in high school—, stood with his blood-stained white coat. “I think she will be a little sluggish when she wakes up, you better meet her inside this time.”  
Jongin’s mood worsened. He hated that idea. “Are they hers?” He pointed to the red dots corrupting the clean white of his coat.  
       “Unfortunately... yes.” Baekhyun opened the door and made a way for Jongin. “So, are you coming?” Jongin’s face darken—he could already make out the smell of alcohol and medicines; they smell like rust and corrupted exhaust to him—he let out a curse. Before he stepped in, he told Baekhyun, “Don’t close the door.”  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
       “So, what have you been doing till now?” Baekhyun sat on his chair—sipping coffee from his cup—while Jongin tap his feet restlessly as he leaned on the table. Soojung was still sleeping inside the ward and he just let her be—he didn’t like waking her up.  
       “Spending my father’s money, as everyone can expect,” Jongin answered casually.  
       “Public figure, indeed. I’m surprised you can pass high school,” Baekhyun said a matter fact.  
       Jongin gave him an approval nod. “I was too! Do you know you can pass the final exam without even looking at the questions? Damn, that must hurt, only finding them out now.”  
       Baekhyun gave an easy smile. “Looking at you hurt more.”  
       “Just as I want it.” Jongin won the smile.  
       Baekhyun took in the view of the man in front of him. His clothes and hair were all damp and messy; clearly he had been running. “Why her?” He finally muttered.  
Jongin drew his gaze back on Baekhyun, black layer had replaced his smile. “Because you can’t win against her and you can never solve her. But no matter how many times you fail, you can’t get tired of her.”  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
       Soojung dreamt of the day she first held Jongin’s hand. When Jongin woke up from comma and regained his strength back, they nurse ought to staple him to the bed because he had been screaming and damaging the medical support. After a week and he could live without the support, he was still screaming and crouching in the corner of the room.   
When she came to visit, he was crouching at the same place—his eye bags showing and his eyes red. Soojung crouched at his side and Jongin raised his hand above her—ready to hit her. Somehow, they hit never fell on her. Instead, he began to cry. For the first time in two weeks. Soojung had his hand in her and he hold them back in return tightly. They fell asleep like that.  
       Little Soojung had promised to herself that she wouldn’t do anything that could make Jongin ended up in a hospital ever again. Wounds hurt the most when brought to hospital—for there so many who should have treated them, but no one could heal them.  
       As Soojung regained her consciousness back, he could see Jongin sitting beside her bed in the infirmary—looking more pissed than he used to be in daily life. Soojung wanted to laugh—so she let out a chuckle. When it came out wrong, she tried another. But they never came out right until she realized—she had let out cries instead.  
       “Kai..., I think I am sick.”  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
       There was only one person in this world who called Jongin as Kai and that was Soojung. They were playing codes; Jongin was Kai and Soojung was Soo. Jongin would never admit it, but there was comfort in the name Kai. As if, no matter how useless of a person Jongin was, Kai was someone else—someone better—because only Soojung knew him and Soojung didn’t hurt Kai like every other hurt Jongin.  
       “Soo, don’t start hurting me now.”  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
       Jongin swore he could vomit at anytime and he was sure that wouldn’t look nice. The weird scent of the hospital had been piercing his lungs since he stepped on the white shining tiles—hundreds of perfect white tiles, the perfect canvas for blood. His breath fell short and his hands felt cold—as if all the blood within him was bleeding out of him.   
Jongin bit his lip hard, trying to keep himself from screaming. The place was too loud—too many cries, too many shouts. The footsteps of the nurses, the roller of the wheel, the whisper, the running, everything jumbled into a nauseating thread circling his neck and it took him moments to realize that even in a quiet room, the sound had been coming from his own head.   
       It turned mute when the doctor started talking. “It’s unfortunate but I must inform you that the test shows that,” Jongin didn’t like where this was going. “You are confirmed to have stage-two cancer. It’s inherited.”  
       There was a moment of silence coming from the three figures in the room. The doctor waited patiently for responds while Jongin finally stopped rocking his feet. Soojung was all stern and calm taking in the information.  
       “Are you sure?” Jongin was the one who broke the silence.  
       “Yes, unfortunately yes. We ran double check on it,” the doctor solemnly explained. Jongin tasted the moment—hearing your girl dying from a doctor was just as sickening as hearing your mother tried to bring you in her suicide from news program.   
       “Will she live?” Jongin asked. There was no pressure in his question—as if he was just asking about the weather. His face was all annoyance and ignorance. The doctor took in the scene in both concern and confusion. He cleared his throat.   
       “I’m not the one to decide that but she can undergo intensive treatment and...”  
       Jongin cut in. “Will she live?” Now his face was all about business. The doctor glanced on the girl beside him, Soojung had her body slacked on the chair, her gaze was on the table and her expression was empty. Both looked like they were counting in their heads.  
       “The cancer is severe. It will be hard. She has a few years in maximum.”  
       At that the doctor thought he saw something rippled in Jongin’s eyes but it lost too quickly, replaced by the same rigidness that he always had on. Jongin took a breath in and slumped his body on the chair; his face was up looking at the ceiling. When he was a child, he spent the hours looking at the dark pit of the under of his bed—he hated it. Now, ten years later, the ceiling was just another part of hospital he added to hate.  
       “My father told me to abandon you and say that he’ll draw my money, my car, my apartment back if I don’t by the end of this year.” Jongin said, still looking up.  
       “I know, you told me,” Soojung answered in low, calm voice.   
       “So if I have to stick with you now, I’ll be completely broke and you will still die,” Jongin explained in a way that made it seemed like he was also explaining it to himself. It was the calculation he had been making since the last ten minutes.  
       The doctor looking at two figures in front of him felt strange—he had delivered so many cancer news and had seen so many reactions, true some were calm while most would screams and cries, but none of his patient talked about death in count like this.  
       Kai turned his head to side, looking at Soojung for the first time since they entered the hospital. Soojung looked back at him. Drawn on his face was the rarest look that Jongin shown to Soojung—pained. This time he didn’t draw it back quickly, he let it lingered to make sure that Soojung saw well what she did to him.  
       “I spend the last ten years defying my father to hang out with low life like you and now you are dying on me?” Jongin muttered. He let the word came out slow, emphasizing every word to make sure his spite was clear. “I am not going to throw everything for something that decayed so easy.” There were disgust, anger and sickness in the sentence.  
       Lastly he said, with softer voice, “Soo, I am leaving you. It’s my chance to abandon you.”  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
       The first thing that Jongin taught to Soojung was how to tie shoelaces. Thirteen years old Soojung had never bother to learn how to tie her shoelaces—her father had always did for her. So that night of the funeral, Soojung came out with her black dress and untied shoes.  
       After the burial, when the crowd of masquerade had gone, Soojung sat by herself on one of the porch stairs—looking blankly at her untied shoes. Suddenly, hands came to her vision. At first, she almost jumped thinking that it was his father. But the hands were different. They were smaller and smoother, there were no wrinkles and scars like what her father had.  
       “Always prepare your shoes and tie it tight.” When Soojung looked up, Jongin was kneeling in front of her, hands working on her shoelaces. It never crossed her mind that someone like Jongin would have wanted to touch her shoes.  
       “I’ll give you a tip,” Jongin said as he finished the second shoes. He looked up at her. “If things go hard, always run and save yourself.”  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
       Jongin stood up from his seat. He took a lazy glance on the doctor then moved out from the chair. “I’ll pay for the check up today,” he said as he was taking his leave.  
       “I told you I don’t like your father money.” Soojung said sternly without looking back to him. Her gaze forever glued on the table.  
       “This will be the last so let’s just enjoy it.” Jongin said as he walked towards the door. The next moment, he was gone from the room.  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
    Soojung took in a deep breath and slacked her body lazily on the chair. Her head jerked backwards on the chair board. Unlike Jongin, she thought the room was fine. Every part of the room was clean, there was a heater and despite the forever presence alcohol smell, the air was uncorrupted. The place was calm—unlike Jongin who feared silence, she liked tranquillity. “Do you have any other patient after this?” Soojung said as she brought her body up.  
    Before the doctor could answer she had gotten up from her seat and walked towards the bed on the other side of the room. “I want to rest here,” she continued. “You can check on your patient, I won’t be noisy.”  
       Soojung brought herself up to the bed, making herself comfortable and pull on the cover over her. “You can charge it if you want. Make sure it goes to his bill.” A minute later she added. “Double it.”  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
    Jongin walked out smoothly and easily. As he reached the exit, the outdoor air replacing the alcohol smelled one filled his lungs and he took them pleasingly. The sun was up in the sky—today was a bright day.   
    “Is my dad is in the office?” Jongin said to the person on the other side of the phone. He hung up as he got his confirmation. In his right hand was his cell phone while in the left, was his car key.   
    His car ought to stay, he couldn’t drive it.  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
    Jongin was running. He swore he began to run quiet too often lately. Without his winter coat, although his lungs were burning but the rest of his body was freezing. He could barely feel his feet while in contrast, his thighs were killing him. But his mind was all over the place and running happened to be his automatic mind’s option.  
    And so he ran, with tears all over his face.  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
    Soojung woke up in the hospital bed. The clock showed that it was almost six. The sleeping had been nice. It had been quiet long for her to sleep on a comfy bed with expensive pillow and heater. She thought of going back for another sleep but then she decided to get up.  
    “I need to wash my face, I’ll use the bathroom.”  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
    Once Soojung reached the sink, she right away regretted going up from the bed. The thought of having cancer on your body was not as real as when you looked yourself through the mirror. Somewhere under those skins, there was corrupted blood running in her.  
    She took her reflection in and tried to remember every inch of her lines. This is how I look now. Then the second thought followed, how long will it last?  
    If there was one thing that she had been thinking when the doctor told her that she had cancer and they were all turned quiet was: when will Kai leave?  
    The fact that he leaved right away was not a surprising turn out of event, but it would be lying if she said that she didn’t expect more of him.  
    To think more about it, the fact that Jongin was with her for the last ten years was the surprising part of him. Soojung knew he never particularly liked her—he was not into cheap stuff.  When they were a child, sometimes she would think that he was disgusted of her.  
    But he stayed. Even when his father had throw her away, he still came and instead picking her up, he stayed where she was at. That was why Soojung would never stop Jongin from leaving. She already got more than she should have had.  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
    Jongin banged the door hard. He was a mess of sweat, cold and lack of breathing. The doctor under the table looked at him in horror. Had he had not known him since he was a little; he must have shouted and called the security. At the same time, Soojung came out from the bathroom and took in the scene with confusion.  
    The doctor looked at both Jongin and Soojung in turn. Jongin had his eyes on Soojung while Soojung had hers on his mess and tears. He took steps closer to her while wiping out his own tears with his hands. Soojung took a step back until Jongin stopped her by holding her wrist with his hand. His hand was wet from sweat and tears, but under all those, his hand was a rigid ice.  
    Jongin dragged Soojung with him and they both stand in front of the doctor. “I don’t have anything else so don’t you dare taking her away from me. I am not going to let her die,” he said, running out of breath, in anger.  
    “Stop listening to him,” he said now to Soojung—his grip on her hand tightened as he said so. He looked at her still in annoyance and anger. “You can stop thinking about dying. I’m not going to let you die.”  
    He wiped his last squeeze of tears with his free hand and for a moment, his facade of anger was gone—replaced by the scared and frustrated. “I’ll do anything. So find a way to save her, please.”  
                                                                                                                                       ...  
    “What are you doing?” Soojung had asked Jongin as they reached the corridor, out from the doctor’s office. Their hands were still lacing together.  
    Soojung stopped her step. “I ran through the snow.” Jongin answered.  
    “And why the hell you did that?”  
    “My father took my car key.”  
    Soojung went rigid. She let her hold loose but Jongin kept them tight. She turned her face to look at him. “What else did he take?”  
    Jongin on the other hand was looking at the floor. “My wallet, my phone, he said I can have this shirt and jeans but he took the coat.” Soojung took a better look on Jongin—that explained why he was as cold as ice. It didn’t occur to her mind that he had been missing his coat.  
    “And why the hell you did that?” Soojung repeated—her voice strained. Some waves built up inside her—a moment away from rushing out.  
    Jongin was finally raising his head. His eyes were on her. Her fear was reflected on his eyes. “How do you expect me to throw my everything for something that decay so easy?”  
    Tears were flowing from Soojung’s tears for the first time in the day. And they were bursting like hard waves. Her breath was caught in nausea. “And why the hell I am your everything, you stupid,” she said between her chocked breath. Her free hand tightened up in fist and she used it to throw weak punches on Jongin’s chest.  
    Soojung legs gave in. She cried her heart out on the hospital floor. The pain in her chest was never so severe. The last time she cried like this was on the day her father died. Between the chocked breaths she muttered the word stupid for Jongin. Jongin grip on her hand was forever stern. Her last question repeated itself in his mind over and over again.  
    “As if I can answer that...”  
                                                                                                                                       ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry I forgot to update this. This is the first part of two. Enjoy and please leave comment below. Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> I go by the name byharu at AFF. Check it out if you may.


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